


It's Strange, in a Way

by orphan_account



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Hope, Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:52:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's not ideal, but she's what they've got.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Strange, in a Way

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this before claiming for ladies_fest even began because the prompt niggled at me so hard....and then I was too slow to claim the damn prompt /o\ Oh well. It's cleaned up, and now I'm posting it. Written for the prompt: "How Gwen comes to be in charge in the wake of Jack's disappearance between S1 and S2."
> 
> All continuity mistakes and factual errors are mine because, seriously, it's been ages and I'm never watching Torchwood again. I only like certain kinds of pain, and mental anguish is not one of them.
> 
> (Fun fact: Before I wrote this, I didn't even know that I didn't hate Gwen.)

She's not a nice person--she's not even an honest person, she thinks, gaze sliding to Owen. She's not the most qualified person for this job and she doesn't even really want it (wants Jack back, would forgive him in an instant if only he would come _back_ ). She is entirely unfit to be an authority figure to these people she's only known a few months. But...

She looks at Tosh, pulling in on herself as she always does, a desperate withdrawal because someone else she counted on has abandoned her. At Owen, his viciousness just barely leashed by charm. He's almost worse than Tosh, because at least Tosh still has hope--Owen, whatever he's been through has taught him not to even bother.

She doesn't look at Ianto, she can't. The one time she tried his face was so devoid of expression, his movements so mechanical she'd instinctively reached out--and he'd recoiled from her touch like it hurt him. So she keeps her face and her eyes averted and pretends she doesn't see.

She looks at them (but not too closely) as they move around their work stations, careful of each other, but not out of kindness or sympathy. They’re preparing for another day without Jack...and comes to a decision.

"I'm calling a meeting," she says abruptly, too loud in the quiet. Everyone stops; looks at her. "We can't go on like this. We can't keep looking forever. He's either beyond our reach or doesn't want to be found. He'll come back or he won't, we can't stay here doing nothing when we're needed elsewhere. There’s a case--"

"And you think you're our boss now, is that it?" (PredictablyOwen, eyebrows raised, calculated malice dripping from every word.

"I think nothing like it. I think we need to _do our jobs_ , Owen. Us staying in limbo isn't good for anything, our city the least," she retorts and glares. Owen sneers and opens his mouth, probably to say something cutting--

"What's the case?" Tosh says quickly, eager to prevent a confrontation.

"Tosh--"

"She's right. Owen, she's _right_. We can't. Jack left, and this job didn't go with him. No one will listen to you because you're mean and reckless; no one will listen to me because, well. Gwen is the best choice." Tosh is precise, matter-of-fact.

Gwen doesn't wince at the implied dismissal of Ianto, but she wants to. She sneaks a peek at him, but his expression is still chillingly empty. She rallies her wits, "I appreciate--"

"You're far from ideal," Tosh interrupts stiffly. "But you're what we've got."

 _So it's like that, is it?_ Gwen smiles a bit wryly. She supposes she deserves it, after all is said and done.

"I see I'm outnumbered," Owen says scathingly. "Shall we have a look at this case then?"

Tosh and Owen pick their way toward the conference room. Too far apart, and far too close. Gwen looks away. If she doesn’t look she won’t see how they cut and bleed on one another’s sharp edges.

"I'll make the coffee," Ianto says quietly. Flatly.

"You should come too." Gwen blurts impulsively. Ianto stops and turns, waiting. She feels...inspected. It’s disconcerting, but she perseveres. "We're one person short now. It's...I think it's probably time you do something other than make a perfect cup of coffee."

Ianto blinks. "Alright..." He shifts his weight from one foot to another, clearly uncertain.

"But you should definitely keep making the coffee," Gwen continues hastily, genuinely alarmed that he might not want to do so anymore. She doesn’t know if she can live without his espressos, having had them, and is in hurry to find out.

Ianto laughs, startled; it’s rusty but genuine, and his mask shattered like glass. "I suppose I should. I'll be up in a moment."

Gwen nods, a bit ashamed and a lot relieved. "Gwen? Thank you."

Gwen nods and continues up the steps to the conference room where Owen and Tosh are busily, and pointedly, ignoring each other.

She’s not the ideal person for the job. She’s too emotional, too selfish, too inexperienced. She’s probably going to fail spectacularly, and there’s no safety net to catch her. She wants Jack back with a yearning that defies her horror at feeling it. But these are her people, and she is responsible for them.

She’ll let them all down, but not today.


End file.
